Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Chelsea Clinton: The Love Child of Mr. Ed.

I believe one of the very first posts on this blog dealt with my anger that the Ed Klein book claimed that Hillary became pregnant with Chelsea because Bill raped her. I was understandably miffed, as Hillary and I are soulmates and I feel her pain when such a rumor comes out. When I told one of my comrades about this, the anonymous chum gave me a bemused smile and said, "Maybe she was raped by a horse." Easily one of the bitchiest and most amusing things I have heard in the last three months or so. The reason I bring up this moldy news topic is because Chelsea has appeared in the news once again. Apparently a Kenyan official believes she is worth approximately 40 goats and 20 head of cattle, and has reportedly offered said amount of livestock to Bill for her hand in marriage. Several things about this story perturb me (in a good way).
Number one: Why isn't this getting ANY coverage?
That fucking blond girl that got it up the pooper in Aruba is STILL in the news, even though her corpse has probably been eaten by manatees by now. Everyone in the goat story is alive and available for comments.
Number two: Why hasn't anyone gotten ANYBODY'S opinion on this?
All we have here is the crazy Kenyan guy's story. I personally would LOVE to know what Chelsea thinks about her value in terms of animals. Given that I am temporarily unknown to the greater public, I would still be insulted if an African official offered less than an army of bovines for my hand in marriage. In fact, I feel I am worth however many cows I have personally eaten at Burger King...which would undoubtedly be the said bovine army. Better yet, what does Ian Klaus think about this? If my girlfriend was being publicly courted, I'd probably be immature enough to release a bitchy statement about how I went to Stanford and I could fucking buy a country of cows for Chelsea. But no. This story has the potential to be AMAZING and no one is doing anything about it. Even Hillary, who has to filter out every syllable that comes out of her mouth so she doesn't fuck up her Presidential destiny could release a politically correct statement about this.

"Bill and I are extremely touched that an unknown African official has taken a sexual interest in our only daughter. Unfortunately, we promised Sidney Poitier that he would be the only gentleman of African descent allowed near our child. But...thanks!"
I would kill off a species to prove my love for that woman.

A clinically insane assistant editor at the Wall Street Transcript has insisted I finish that dumb slash pointless soundtrack countdown. I am not pleased about this, but maybe if I do she will buy me those strawberry Mentos thingies. I rather enjoy their existence.
Just as an aside, if you go to the official Web site for Mentos, they have a pimped-out bird talking ghetto. I do not speak the language of the streets, so I'm baffled as to what Mentos is trying to get me to do. After clicking random buttons, I was directed to wht appears to be an assortment of pseudo rap albums by birds. If anyone can figure out what this site's purpose is for, I'd love to hear it.
So grudgingly we go back to the countdown.
7. Crybaby

Best John Waters movie ever. Best Johnny Depp movie in terms of hotness defined. Best Ricki Lake movie ever. This entire fucking thing is a list of bests. The soundtrack is almost irrelevent, but it's incredible rockabilly badassness. There is icing on this cinematic cake in the form of one of the ugliest human beings to ever be put in front of a camera:
Fuck. There are no pictures of this thing. It ruins my entire premise. Rest assured, she looks like an ugly stick got stuck on her. Iggy Pop has a scene where he's naked in a tin washbasin. It would be hot if...he was hot.

That took it out of me. I am quitting for the day before I have nightmares about Mentos birds killing me with their bling.


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